To Recollect
by Vigors
Summary: A journey may end, but the memories always remain. Their views may differ, but the shared experiences and emotions remain in them both. Morrigan and her Warden walk different paths, but the fondness is still there along with events that brought them together.
1. Warmth

She was right; his body did provide certain warmth that a blanket couldn't give and he provided it often. Rowan's corded muscle would shift and pull while he set their bodies in the most delightful positions. Warm lips would travel over her pale skin, planting soft kisses and whispering heated sweet nothings on her slender neck and by her ear. Never selfish, she mused with a gasp, as he sought out to care for her needs as well as his own. Morrigan was pleased to find he was fine in those regards and a great partner, but his actions after had surprised her.

For their first time the Warden had left after they talked about the conditions of the relationship, but soon he began to linger.

Rowan Cousland was a powerful warrior, who commanded their small group fiercely and led the mismatched party with his great leadership and silver tongue, but she had not expected the man to enjoy being coddled as much as he did.

The blond male stood strong in the Kocari Wilds among Alistair and the other Grey Warden recruits, brushing off his companions fear and introducing himself with a strange formality in the wilds. Although then, he kept his expression plain, his lips were pursed in a constant frown, his eyebrows furrowed, with dark bags under his green eyes like he hadn't slept well in days.

But now, he was so different from the man she had met in the wilds. A smile came to him easily, most unlike the stoic man she had met. Where she had mocked Alistair for being a fool, she now suspected that her warden shared the same attributes as the former Templar. Rowan had a kindness that drove Morrigan insane; always the fool jumped at the chance of helping the unfortunate, and aiding with the most minimal task. Though, unlike Alistair, he showed signs of intelligence, when he acted strong and forced others to see his way and intimated that weak to follow or get out of the way.

On one evening after the two were spent, Rowan collapsed on top of her, his large frame warming her completely, her slender fingers traveled and traced over him, her thin nails scratching the warden's back in amusement, before she finally dropped them over his shoulders. Morrigan thought nothing of it until she felt his arms snake around her waist and was pulled in tightly into his arms his face nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

She lay dazed under him before promptly pushing off and urged him to get dressed and return to his tent before the night's chill set in. She could still see the hurt and puzzled expression on his face when he collected his tunic under his arm before stumbling back to the main camp. After that night, the two continued a strange stalemate when he joined her.

The Grey Wardens visits came more often after that, he would loiter in her camp, counting their expenses, studying the treaties, write of the days activities in his journal, question her about the grimoires, or just lay about with his Mabari and it drove her to near madness. The witch would demand to know what he wanted but when the fool only shrugged and smiled; yet she could see a small hint of yearning in his eyes. When the witch would turn in for the night, he would follow and slip in besides her, despite her complaints.

Rowan's company at night made Morrigan anxious, her tawny eyes would watch him with caution, sleep would escape her the moment he moved closer and set a heavy arm over her. The heat that brought her comfort in their acts of lust would make her squirm and sweat at night when he held her close and soft snores escaped his lips. The witch would lay all night before anger made her act and shake him awake and send him off, and again she would see the hurt look twist his expression. This would happen almost every night he joined her, and he would never take the hint and continue to return.

It drove her mad, he was a most interesting specimen, but his desire for comfort confused her. 'How could one so strong want such a strange affection?' She thought, as her fingers squeezed and brushed over the page of her grimoire, her eyes flicking towards the Warden, watching him march along the camp and converse with Alistair with a grin, his hound following at their heels.

When Rowan came to her that night, she was prepared; Morrigan had watched couples with disgust but took note of their actions every time the group had visited a stray village, and listened to the foolish fairy tale romances that the red-head chantry sister would tell at the camp fire, her eyes on her tomes while she put an air of disinterest.

"Warden," Morrigan called out in exhaustion after their session, her hand reaching forward to grasp his bare arm halting him from getting up and dressing, watching his nude frame shift back to face her, a brow lifting in confusion while he ran his calloused fingers over blonde curls to brush them away from his eyes.

"You may stay." She continued her fingers brushing over his forearm, watching an exhausted smile tug at his while he brought his body back down besides hers, collecting her in strong arms and setting her frame over his own.

"Thank you, Morrigan…" He whispered into her dark hair, while his breathing steadied, rough fingers brushed over her hip in lazy manner, his lips pressing down on her brow, before he slipped into the fade.

The witch, shifted in his arms, a sheen of sweat forming on her body while they lay together. It was a new experience altogether, and it unnerved her, but she didn't dislike it completely. It was a minor inconvenience but she would adapt. Morrigan sighed, her thumb brushing over the scar on his cheek thoughtlessly before finally shutting her eyes and attempting to sleep with Rowan, ignoring the small panting of the Mabari that lingered just outside.

* * *

 _This will probably be a series of One-shots ranging from Origins, Awakening, Witch Hunt, and Inquisition. Time line wise, chapters will jump back and forth. Thanks for reading! A comment, review, or even a critique would be nice!_


	2. Similar

The night's chill settled into the garden, the autumn leaves cascading down onto the grass below when a small breeze blew across Skyhold's garden, the rustle of the swaying branches breaking the silence. Morrigan shivered and brought the suede fennec fur cloak tighter against her frame, her slender fingers brushing over the buckle that bore the Cousland family crest that her Warden had given her long ago. A tome rested on her lap, long forgotten as the witch let her mind wander.

Kieran was fast asleep and tucked into bed, giving Morrigan a moment alone from her little man that took more after his father day by day. From his expressions, his tendency to wander and make new friends immediately; or even the way his eyes would follow her carefully to read her emotions or mood and gauge them before avoiding his studies.

Shutting her eyes, her thoughts fell on Rowan; it had been sometime since she had seen the Grey Warden. She prayed his travels were safe and the vital information he needed to remove his taint came easily. Almost immediately, she felt a pull on her rosemary ring, golden eyes watched the enchanted item change and shift over her fourth finger, feeling him tug at their connection, sending an aura of warmth and joy. This caused a sense of ease to wash over her, and she found herself releasing a breath she wasn't aware she was holding.

"Fool," Morrigan muttered to herself with a small smile tugging her lips, hypnotized by the ring's movement, sending her own emotions back to Rowan with a short laugh, ignoring the burning on her cheeks when she felt his loneliness and sorrow of being apart for so long.

Damned Inquisitor for reminding her just how much she had missed the coddling Warden. Neither were weak enough to die for being apart, only the distance and time started to takes it's toll on their family, and she worried for Kieran, the boy needed his father.

So lost in her trance was the witch, that she didn't notice the two dark silhouettes stumble into garden, drunk giggles escaping both while they passed a bottle of wine to each other, safe from the eyes and stares of the chantry sisters who occupied the garden's in the morning. Only when the bottle was dropped and the glass shattered did her head twist from the ring to glare at the intruders.

The two figures continued to laugh, both male and both drunk, she thought with a frown, ignoring the tug on the ring, feeling curiosity radiate from it. Narrowing her yellow eyes, she spotted one figure exactly, watching him spin and dance with a clumsy grace, dark trimmed hair that was usually neatly combed was now a mess, pale skin reflecting the moon's light. Inquisitor Leonardo Trevelyan.

Morrigan parted her lips to make her presence known before stopping when she watched the Inquisitor stretch his arms into the dark and grasping at the other figure pulling the retreating form into his arms, while he dipped his head down planting his lips onto the other male's. Hearing a small complaint from the other male. Morrigan quickly matched the voice to the Tevinter mage, Dorian, who lingered in the library daily, and now she watched the cheeky man struggle before quickly melting into the kiss.

Ah, so the rumors were true, she thought with a quirk of her brow, she had heard the whispers in Skyhold's walls but it never truly concerned her. The witch shook her head in amusement before clearing her throat to make her presence known.

"Greetings Inquisitor." She called out, watching the Altus shove the Inquistor off of him with force that Leon fell back into a small bush with little hesitation. Both of their eyes wild with search before finally spotting the witch seated under the garden's rotunda.

"L-lady Morrigan!" Leon gasped stumbling onto his feet, his amber eyes glancing worriedly at the Tevinter, the scar under his right eye twisting with his expression. However, Dorian only shook off his concerns, and cleared his throat, fixing his appearance and attempting to sober up in that instant.

"Lady Morrigan, Inquisitor," Dorian bowed before spinning on his heels and marching out of the garden, fleeing from the scene as quickly as he entered.

Leon remained, his eyes falling to his boots and eyelids drooping, his lips thin with a small frown, raking his fingers through his hair. Morrigan watched him, feeling an odd ball of sympathy knotting her stomach.

"I apologize, Inquisitor, t'was not my intention to scare him off, just to alert that you were not alone."

"It's fine, it was my fault, and the garden is a public place. I should've assumed someone could have been here." Leon replied, shaking off her apology his eyes lifting towards the direction Dorian retreated to. "Damn it…" He whispered setting his hands on his hips.

"Goodnight, lady Morrigan." The man finally sighed before stumbling away to his quarters. Leaving the apostate alone once more, contemplating both men's behavior, before brushing herself off and turning in for the night.

* * *

"Oh super. Excuse me while I begin projectile vomiting."

"What was that Alistair? We weren't paying attention." She said with an amused tone, arms wrapping around Rowan's shoulders watching him tip forward his lips falling into hers with fervor his blade dropping from his hand and grasping her hips, ignoring the Mabari hound that hovered under them. Adrenaline always got the Warden's blood pumping and especially after a difficult battle, he would always claim a kiss to calm his nerves and steady his hands and thoughts. At first, it was an inconvenience, but with enough pestering she finally started to enjoy the ritual.

Such actions came easily to her, the physical came easily, she was taught and knew the desires of men, and this was just one of the few that Rowan had.

With the High Dragon slain after a long and exhausting battle, the group's spirits were lifted when the beast fell, bringing them one step closer to finding Andraste's ashes. Entering the temple had been easy enough, what came next was a surprise to them all.

Rowan froze in place, the color draining from his face, his hands trembling when the temple's guardian had asked his question. Morrigan watched their group flinch and shuffle in sympathy for the warden. All the mirth he had felt a moment ago was gone, his face twisting into a weak expression that the apostate had not seen on his face until that very moment.

The question of his parents had torn the man apart, his face twisted with pain his hand lifted to brush over the scar that marred his cheek, but instead of anger the man replied with sorrow to the Guardian's questions. Each encounter chipping away the wall the Warden had composed for himself and leaving him exposed as the lost boy who fled when his parents were slain and his home destroyed.

Morrigan however stood dumbstruck, unsure of how to act or even to reply to the display of weakness she had just witnessed. Everyone had a word to give him, even the drunken dwarf had a coherent bit of advice to give the man, when she had not even one. And it continued the further they proceeded in the Gauntlet, when Rowan encountered the spirit of his father he was finally rendered useless with grief, clutching the pendant tight in his calloused hands.

With the ashes secured everything seemed fine, Rowan managed to compose himself long enough for his friend's until they had settled in their campsite before finally wandering off alone to get away from prying eyes to collapse into his emotions in solitude.

The apostate however stayed behind, her eyes occasionally turning in the direction the man had stomped off to. Stirring and preparing the evenings stew with the assistance of the bard, who's blue eyes kept darting towards the witch then back to the pot.

"What?" Morrigan finally sighed in exasperation, golden orbs narrowing on the Chantry sister who perked up in surprise.

"Why don't you go to him?" Leliana replied jumping at the opportunity to give out her own two coppers on the matter, while tipping a clove of garlic into the stew, waving the steam away from her eyes with a small frown. "He's broken up over what happened, and he needs you." She insisted, Morrigan only huffed at the reply.

"Don't mock me when you know it to be true." Leliana frowned, sprinkling salt in the pot while it bubbled under them, before gesturing for the spoon with a look of impatience. "Come now, go." She shooed, gripping the wooden utensil in her petite fingers.

"And what will I say? Sorry, you displayed such a show of weakness unbefitting of a leader in front of us? I have no patience for such trivial matters." Morrigan complained only for the bard to shrug off her complaint when she ladled some stew and brought it to her small pink lips before letting a small hum of pleasure before the tune evolved into a lighthearted song.

With an irritable grunt, the witch got to her feet and followed the path Rowan had taken, with care to not disturb the undergrowth below her and to blend among the tree trunks like a predator stalking it's prey. Spotting the slouched male, she paused, when his sobs fell onto her ears, his body trembling while he buried his face into his hands and the trinket's golden lace.

Rowan paused; glancing over his shoulder in surprise when Morrigan took a misstep and broke a twig underfoot. Inhaling a sharp breath of air, he wiped his tears.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to interrupt your sniveling." The witch spoke, only for the Warden's eyes to narrow on her angrily, with an unbidden rage, his hands clasping the pendant tight in his large rough hands.

"If you've come to mock me, leave." Rowan growled out in anger, his voice low and rough but sharp, a tone that he had never used on the apostate. "I've no patience, for it, not tonight." He sniffed and focused his attention elsewhere.

Morrigan scoffed at his words, her lips lifting in a snarl. "So be it, cry over the words of an apparition. See what good it will get you, fool!" She spat turning on her heels, despising the whole situation and him.

There is a ripple of the muscles on his jaw as he clenches his teeth, his chest rising and falling with the increase pace of his breathing. "So be it." Rowan's voice came out tight, with a hitch at the end an indication of the potential new wave of tears that were spilling from his eyes.

Morrigan stomped off, consumed in anger at the Warden, his weakness was so unpredictable and so was he. Why couldn't he just admit he was acting fool, why couldn't he see things her way?

* * *

"Lady Morrigan?"

Morrigan froze, her fingertips skimming the spine of a tome she was about to pull from the shelf, her yellow eyes leaving the leather bound encyclopedia to settle on the Tevinter mage who stepped out of his alcove to hover over the witch the moment she had entered the library.

Clearing his throat, Dorian stepped forward and bowed in a show of grace. "I'd like to apologize for what occurred last night, it won't happen again, I assure you."

A small laugh escaped the apostate, who finally tore her eyes off the man to resume grabbing the tome and tucking it under her arm with care. "Oh, t'is all? It didn't vex me at all." The woman smiled and shook her head, however something stopped her from shaking the Altus off and forgetting the encounter.

Damned Inquistor and damn her foolish Warden, she thought with a frown watching the man step away and retreating back to his alcove.

"Pavus, wait." Morrigan spoke, keeping her attention on the shelf, her expression hidden from the man who paused and faced the apostate once again.

"You've been granted a wondrous opportunity and have garnered the attention of powerful man. One who adores you clearly but your own insecurities halt you from finding love." Morrigan began, her hand clutching the tome to keep herself grounded and plain of face in the presence of a stranger; a stranger who could make the same mistakes with his lover like she had with hers.

"Once this is all said and done, you will look back at your missed opportunities regretting every time you turned him away, the times you pulled away, didn't return a kiss, or even avoided the chance to offer comfort when they need you most. And you'll remember this when you feel at your lowest." Morrigan finished, stepping away from the shelf to exit the library, finished with her odd sentiment and leaving the chatty mage tongue-tied.

* * *

The apostate witch wiped away tears, while biting her bottom lip tight between her teeth, ignoring the sweat on her brow while clutching the mewling child possessively in her arms. Her eyes studied the beams of the cabin; a wail escaped her lips her arm resting over her lips to contain her cries.

Her eyes found the ring on her fourth finger making her emotions wash over her in renewed fevor, thinking of the green eyed Warden whose comfort she yearned more then anything at that moment. The exhausted woman brushed the infant's dark locks, with a sentiment and irony weighing down her heart. She had mocked the man for the comfort she now desperately desired.

* * *

 **Read and Review! Have a good one folks!**


	3. Blind

He didn't want to know, unsure if his heart could handle the truth that he had been avoiding. Rowan's thoughts were shaken away when Morrigan's red lips whispered a heated tease against his ear, her hot breath making shivers travel up his spine, her slender fingers combing back his hair and tugging at the blond locks and pulling his head back exposing his neck before her mouth fell on him.

The Grey Warden held back a groan, his calloused fingers digging into her hips and biting his bottom lip tight in-between his teeth. A grunt of displeasure escaped him when her hands grasped his wrists and pinned his arms over his head. The witch only laughed and placed a chaste kiss on the male's lips then to his cheeks while she straddled his hips.

Rowan's eyes lifted and examined the raven haired beauty, struggling with a weak attempt of escaping her grip, his lips parting when she leaned forward and claimed his lips, her tongue dipping into his mouth, a hum promptly escaped his throat when she dominated the kiss, her wet muscle exploring his mouth in excitement.

And yet, his mind began to wander once more. The thought of everyone who traveled with him stepping forward to make his or her own little jab at the relationship worried the Warden. Despite his best actions, Rowan would occasionally eavesdrop when they thought he wasn't listening. All spoke of the apostate and her secret desires; of her biding her time before she could finally strike out her hidden plan.

It worried him that he was falling into bliss of his own creations. What he believed to be a relationship driven by passion and mutual respect was but a woman tugging at his heart strings. However, when he felt her petite hand settle over his chest and push her frame above his, he lay unmoving. The Warden observed her undue her hair; raven locks hugging her lithe frame and shielding her bare bosom from the nights chill added to Morrigan's wild beauty

The witch's fingers stroked over his chest and down to his abdomen, tawny eyes watching the male, a hint of mischief hidden beneath her amusement. Rowan continued to let his arms rest limply above him, putting himself through a battle of his own self-restraint, a small sweat of exertion growing on his brow, teeth grit in a desperate attempt to halt him from enveloping her.

"Ah, he attempts to break out of my spell?" She teased in a hushed tone, her fingers lingering on his ribcage, fingertips tracing and memorizing the scar he had received when he intercepted an oncoming Hurlock vanguard from cleaving right through the apostate. The glow in her eyes dimmed for a moment, before the spark lit in her eyes again instantly, her hand pulling away and traveling to another part of his body.

Rowan's heart raced, maybe they weren't right, he did see something in her that the others couldn't, and in that perfect little world where everything turned out just fine, after slaying the archdemon, she would join him in reclaiming Highever and take a break from it all in his ancestral home.

If he was wrong, and he blindly exposed himself to the viper's bite- no, he did not want to think of such things. Morrigan had said and done things to him that no great performer or bard could portray. Would she able to fake the worry in her expression when only shallow breaths escaped the male's lips being barely able to fill his lungs with air because of his crushed bones; could she fake the tenderness she used when she wiped the sweat off his brow or how she combed her fingers gently through his hair, sending a healing chill over him?

Taking advantage of his distraction the witch positioned her waist and engulfed him, a groan of pleasure escaping the Warden, his hands shot to grasp her hips, a tremor traveling down her body, a short sultry laugh escaping her. "T'would seem that I've won."

Rowan's thoughts blissfully escaped him when she rolled her waist onto him, forgetting himself he pegged his thoughts as merely panic at the budding relationship, and instead turned to attune himself into the present, and focus on running his fingers up her spine and down her scalp, to bury himself deeply into her and earn the gasp he so desperately desired to hear.

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 **Hope I didn't bump the rating with this chapter. Thank you for the reviews, have a good one folks.**


	4. Monster

Loud melodious chimes rung from the chantry and vibrated through the air, breaking the morning silence while the ringing blanketed the city of Amaranthine along with the morning dew. A limp frame hung from the highest of rooms of Lady Esmerelle's manor, strung by a tightly woven Antivan rope that hung snuggly across the woman's neck, her head twisted in a ghastly manner, her thin slender neck snapped the moment she exerted her weight and flung her body from the highest room of her manse.

Rowan couldn't help but snort in distaste at the honor given to the traitor and conspirator whose body swayed with the morning breeze. The Warden Commander blinked away his exhaustion, agitated that he was woken for such an unimportant manner when there was more pressing matters. Licking his lips he could taste the Orlesian summer wine on his lips from his late night drinking with Oghren, Nathaniel and a few other recruits.

Pushing the deep hood away, the male stood tall, dressed in a simple blue tunic and black trousers with tan traveling boots, a deep blue satin cloak bearing a griffon insignia shielded him from the chill, blond hair trimmed close to his skull to prevent others from grasping his locks in retaliation, with Starfang strapped securely to his belt, the male felt naked without his shield that he had forgotten in his rush to the estate.

Watching exhausted figures stumble of their home then charge with unbidden rage towards him, the warden stood his ground while sniffing in an uninterested huff. Members of the Silver Order moved to intercept the grieving family members immediately, their warnings muffled by the still beating bells, while Esmerelle's family crashed into the soldiers and shouted curses and spat at the warden commander from over the guard's shoulders, his expression remaining plain to the grieving family.

"You monster!" Lady Esmerelle's daughter screamed, the girl's face twisted in agony with a likeness of her mother, horrible sobs wracked her body while she struggled to escape the grasp of one of his men.

* * *

He had to narrow his eyes to see in the bleak dungeon, the faintest of glows escaped the torches held by the sconces on the stonewalls, a moist air hung in the air, making his clothing cling tightly around his frame and condensation form on his Dragonbone armor, his fingers gripped the pommel of Asturian's Might tightly, a snarl of anger escaped Rowan when he lifted his warden tower shield to block the blades that came bearing down on him; sparks flew when steel hit the shield, exerting his strength his arm pushed back his attack forcibly launching the attacker onto the hard stone ground.

Moving to take the advantage, Rowan's teeth clenched while swigging his blade down on the man, cursing loudly when Rendon Howe rolled away and sprinted further into the cells. Without a second thought, the warden moved to give chase his anger boiling in his belly, sweet satisfying revenge just a small distance away.

"Howe!" The grey warden shouted the muscles in his leg clenched when he propelled himself forward, leaving his party behind with Arl Howe's men, barely registering the shout of warning that Zevran called out when Rowan charged further into the dungeon.

"Maker spit on you!" Howe snarled in the shadows out of Rowan's sight, the warden inhaled sharply and adjusted his stance with a growl erupting from his throat, green orbs darting around the room, his eyes adjusting to the dark.

Rowan ignored the man's continued complaints, and instead focused on finding the man, when Rendon Howe charged at him from the shadows his blades posed for another attack, the warden swung his arm on instinct when Howe closed the distance; the muscles on his arm tightened when he brought the blade into Howe's side and collapsed the older male.

Howe fell to his knees and dropped his weapons, his hands desperately clutching at his side, his fingers getting soaked and his face contorting in pain while a desperate cough shook his body and gagged the Arl. Rowan straightened his stance and strode towards the dying man in a calm grace, kicking his blades away from his grasp before towering over Howe.

"Fitting you would die on your knees you traitorous bastard." Rowan said, while walking round the man, his eyes aflame with hate that he could longer hold inside. The anger he had bore on his shoulders for so long finally escaped its cage. "I've brought down darkspawn stronger then you. For all your talk, I expected more."

Thrusting his foot back and striking Rendon's shoulder a blood curdling snap resonated from the man's arm, Rowan stilled and observed when the Arl collapsed torn from applying pressure on his would or tending to his broken arm. A small sick sense of satisfaction growing inside of him,

Rowan reeled back in surprise when a wet roar of laughter escaped Rendon Howe and echoed in the dungeons walls. "Your parents would lament at the monster I helped create." The Arl coughed, a pleased smile coming to lips, watching the young man with an ease that made the warden freeze and grit his teeth to keep himself from uttering out something foolish.

"Damn your family," Rendon Howe breathed while falling limp on the cold stone floor, a pool of blood forming around his frame, his strength finally leaving him. "I deserved more…"

Rowan had no more words to say to the man who had slain his family, instead he held his blade over his blade and let his desire of revenge take control of his actions, applying his full strength to his swing, he drove the blade into Rendon Howe's chest. In that instant, the warden became more aware of the crunch he felt under his fingers when the sword parted through bone, aware of the short gurgle of air that escaped the Arl, while the man's hand outstretched and gripped the Silverite steel in one hand while the other settled into Rowan's pauldron.

Howe's breathing became more labored, his hand desperately lifted to rest on the young Cousland's neck, his thumb resting and pressing meekly, a final attempt of finishing what he started. With one final lurch of life, Rendon Howe's eyes bore into Rowan's, his teeth gritting with contempt before a final shudder escaped him and his hands fell limp on the stone floor.

Of all the lives he's taken, none felt more personal to the grey warden, his stomach lurched, his dinner threatening to escape him. Hot tears began to spill from the warden's eyes making the young man feel like a damned fool for crying for his family's murderer. He had finally received the retribution he had desired, but it wasn't as satisfying as he wished. Howe lay dead and his family was still gone.

Wiping away his tears, the warden realized that he had fallen to his knees and lifted himself with a grunt, a sudden spell of exhaustion washing over his body and weighed down his bones.

"Rowan?"

The man sniffed and glanced over his shoulder, finding the apostates silhouette standing a few feet away. Sheathing his blade, he took slow strides towards the witch and closed the distance between the two. "Morrigan." He croaked, his hand lifted to run a thumb over scratch the women had received in the battle he abandoned for his own selfish goal.

"You fool," Morrigan sighed, golden eyes bore into green orbs, her fingers lifted to brush away the hot tears that still stained the man's cheeks. The warden's eyes widened in surprise at the gentle gesture, earning Morrigan a crooked smile; the witch clicked her tongue and suppressed a smile when the male's hand fell over hers and moved to bury his face into her palm, breathing in her scent to calm him.

"Are you well?" She asked when the male regained his composure. Rowan paused and glanced at Howe's broken corpse. His stomach churned at the sight and the color drained from his face; but in a small hidden part of his mind, a growing depraved voice told him that it wasn't enough and to relish the death of his families former friend.

Taking in a breath and shaking away his dread, Rowan nodded and gave the raven-haired witch a small nod. "I'm fine, we should go. The others are probably worried." He finally said while leading the way out of the hall, meeting the waiting crow, the redheaded berserker, and his faithful mabari.

* * *

The fire cracked and popped in the fireplace breaking the silence in the Denerim palace's room accompanied by the small creak of a wood polished Ferelden rocking chair that currently held the exhausted Cousland whom sat covered in fur lined quilts, his feet warmed by a Ferelden bear skinned rug and by a large tan colored mabari that lay at his masters feet.

Rowan grimaced his skin feeling raw after the rough scrubbing he had fallen victim to when he had returned from Fort Drakon, bruised, bloodied, and worst of all clinging to a stench that made Wynne set to his cleaning immediately. His stomach felt ready to burst from plates of food he had cleaned the moment Leliana had snuck into his room with the hot bowls of stew. Lifting a calloused hand to run it through his short trimmed hair, the small locks tickled his palm, thankful that Alistair had cut and fixed his hair after his guards in Drakon ripped the hair out on areas of the man's aching scalp.

Green orbs rested on his hand, studying the rosewood ring on his forth finger, his brows furrowing in concentration attempting to pull at the link he shared with the apostate. When he could get none, he broke his focus with a breath and wiped the sweat that had formed on his brow. He couldn't understand how the simple ring could show his location and he hadn't dared to ask her how or what she felt coming from the ring.

The warden glanced over his shoulder to rest his eyes on the mattress, watching the apostate turn on her side on the bed exposing her slender pale back to him, having fallen asleep and leaving the brooding male to his own devices. Rowan smiled and examined her long black hair and the way blanketed her body while she held the sheets fiercely into her lithe frame. He knew she would not be one to fret over him on his return, but her company and the careful way she had rubbed salves on his wounds, or even the way her eyes lit in relief when she found him by using the ring was her own way to show that she cared.

Letting his eyes fall on the flames once more, the man could still feel his anger burning in his veins. Rowan scolded himself mentally for weeping after he had slain Rendon Howe. The man wouldn't shed a tear for him, so why had he? The only semblance of emotion the man felt now for his father's former friend was regret. Regret that he had not dragged out the man's death and made him feel the pain and suffering of the lives he took.

Rowan knew the man was a monster but he didn't know the extent of the man's evil until he was dragged into Fort Drakon gagged and bound. His stomach churned at the thought, remembering the broken cold body of Mother Mallol, tossed aside like a doll in her cell, her glossy eyes boring into the ceiling, while the stiffness of death and the smell of rotting clung to the once vibrant woman.

Ser Gilmore, stalwart and brave, with a quick smile and always with a story to tell, tied to the rack, arms and legs dislocated and separated from their proper place. His body so emancipated that he no longer bore resemblance to the man he used to be except for small patches of his ginger hair or the strong jaw that wooed the women of Highever

Howe's life amounted to nothing compared to the fate that his people had suffered in the man's treachery. But there were still those who conspired with him and they still awaited justice and he would gladly take the role of judge, jury, and executioner to set their lives to rest.

* * *

"Thank the Maker you decided to show mercy." Fergus sighed in relief while stepping to his brother's side and clapping the man on the shoulder.

"I bore hate for her mother not for the her. I gave her a small fright by threatening to conscript her to the wardens, but she is free. I'm not some monster that slays innocents." Rowan sighed while gripping the railing of his patio and leaning his body over it, his eyes shutting and enjoying the evening breeze. He had already gotten his earful for his deplorable behavior on scaring the wits out of the young lady from the Seneschal and Mistress Woolsey, he had not expected to hear anything on the matter from his brother.

"How are things in Highever?" Rowan asked with a small sniff in a weak attempt to change the topic.

"Stressful, but well. You should visit soon, brother. It doesn't feel like home without you." Fergus said while squeezing his younger brother into his side.

Rowan chuckled while glancing back into his room and waving his brother inside. Stepping to a small dining table that was set in his office, the man grabbed and uncorked a bottle of wine pouring a glass of summer wine for Fergus and himself. Grabbing the glass carefully between his fingers, Rowan waved for his brother to take a glass while he took a small sip and rolled the wine on his tongue.

"I'll be sure to visit soon, brother." Rowan nodded while nursing the glass, observing Fergus carefully while the man took a sip himself. It was now or never, Rowan thought with a frown, swallowing down his nerves and clearing his throat to receive his brother's attention. "Fergus, after my visit, I'll be taking my leave in search for Morrigan."

Fergus choked on his drink, his coughs filled the room while the dark haired man beat at his chest to calm his small fit. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, the Teyrn of Highever eyes bore into his younger brother. "You can't be serious, Rowan." Fergus said in disbelief.

"I am very serious." Rowan replied with a frown, his eyes lifting to meet his brother, daring the older man to challenge his decision. "I have nothing left for me here, the Blight is over, Amaranthine is safe and so is Vigil's keep.

Fergus' chest puffed in anger and straightened his posture, ready to challenge his brother. "Nothing? You have nothing, Rowan? What of me? What of the Grey Wardens? Or Alistair and the friends you'll leave behind? You seriously cannot be so selfish and leave it all behind for a woman who left you!"

Rowan only clenched his jaw and shook his head at his brother's words. He wanted to keep things civil with his brother and did not wish to let his anger out on his only living relative. "I love her, Fergus." The man sighed, his eyes falling on the rosewood ring feeling the strange pull and tingle that he felt radiate off the ring every time he focused on it. He could swear he was learning to use it, he could feel strange thoughts that weren't his own flow into his mind when he truly focused on the ring.

"If she loved you she would've stayed, Rowan. Have you forgotten the grief that overtook you when she disappeared? I certainly haven't, it took hours to calm you." Fergus informed slowly, as if he was appealing to a child.

"She saved my life and she is with my child!" Rowan countered with a growl, his hand moving to twist the ring on his finger anxiously when the room stilled at his announcement. "I can't just pretend and I can't forget, Fergus. I know what I felt and I know it was real."

The two men stood together awkwardly, both tipping their glasses against their lips and averting their gaze, the sweet wine filling their bellies. Fergus could only set his cup aside and comb his hair back to work through his nerves while pacing around the room anxiously. Rowan watched his brother with pleading eyes, hoping the older man would understand. "What will you do when you find her?"

Rowan's stomach churned and his eyes fell to ground. "I'm not sure, Fergus…" He trailed off, his heart and mind set on his decision; he knew he had to find her. Studying the ring again, he could feel his hand trembling when he remembered the chilly evening, having spent it drinking himself under the table with Oghren. The night had been filled with the cheers and japes of his newest recruits, songs and tales of valor chanted in the pub. Rowan had forgotten his sorrows and lost himself in the mirth, his voice flowing among the others. When a sudden sobering feeling washed over him, regret and sorrow that wasn't his own washed over him, sending him stumbling out the door and following the pull of the ring before it disappeared.

"I understand." Fergus interrupted Rowan's thoughts, while lifting his thumb to brush away tears from the corner of his eyes. "You've supported me in every decision I've made. I'll do the same for you." The man nodded, a surge of joy building in the Warden's stomach after hearing the words.

Charging towards his older brother, Rowan threw his arms tightly around his brother and crushed him in a tight embrace while he pushed his lips and planted a rough kiss on the man's temple. "I love you, Fergus."

"I love you too, Rowan." The man chuckled while returning the embrace and pressing a kiss on his young brother's forehead. "Maker's breath, I'm going to miss you."

* * *

Rowan eyes remained on the witch, his heart surging in excitement and beat rhythmically in his chest. Rhino barked wildly besides him. The mabari panted in excitement, his stubby tail wagging and shaking the canine's body while looking at his master for permission before he charged ahead, and pounced around the apostate. The woman bent down and ran her fingers into the dog's thick coat. Rhino responded by resting his weight on her legs for more attention, his large tongue dangling out of his mouth in joy.

Rowan grinned knowing that his search had finally brought him to where his heart lies.

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 **Thanks for all the faves and follows guys! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter; it's a bit of a long one.**


	5. Snowfall Part 1

**Snowfall part 1**

Every step brought her closer to her wits end. When she first left the Kocari Wilds with the two Grey Wardens, she was excited to see the world with her very own eyes; to see the oceans, experience mountains, live the sights that she had only read of. Now, however those foolish fancies of her formal self haunted her with each step.

Her breath billowed into the afternoon air, along with that of the rest of her companions. The snow would melt and seep into her boots, soaking and freezing her toes with the dropping temperatures. The tall snows dusted pines that surrounded the group stood tall and were countless, making it feel like the group was ambling into a never-ending dream. Her face twisted in an expression of disgust and discomfort, glad to not be the only one, finding that the Antivan Crow and chantry sister shared the same look.

A gust of winter wind blew over the small company each individual member pausing to brace it away, the witch scoffed and found herself doing the same by resting her weight against her staff to fend off the elements only for a defeated sigh to follow after when the distraction was fought off and the marching in the frozen wasteland continued.

Morrigan's eyes darted onto each individual face of her travel companions, finding an odd air of disconnection between herself and them all that particular evening. The witch could not find the same pleasure in their company and would rather have spent another night with her mother then them.

She found that the only beings that could put up with her moods were the warden and his mabari. However today it felt that only Rhino could support her company, and the mongrel could only whimper and beg for table scraps when he wasn't carrying out his task of a proud warrior dog.

"Shoo, mongrel," Morrigan sighed, her words lacking the same edge they usually held. Rhino continued to trot besides her, tongue rolling out of the dog's jaw, while nudging his weight into her thigh.

Her time with Warden's was waning since the arrival of the Circle Mage. How quickly did the old cat worm her way into the wardens' good graces; ready with a curt word, advice, and sometimes even a tale. Morrigan couldn't understand how Rowan could put up with the circle mage's scolding or teachings, 'twas another reason why she didn't fit with company.

The warden was not an unwelcoming fellow. His caution for the Witch of the Wilds was there, but he still treated her in the same respect he held for the others. Rowan even paid her an odd display of consideration and found Flemeth's dark grimoire in the Circle.

Wynne's warnings of apostates, illegal mages, and blood magic could and would change it all. The leading warden already seemed to start keeping his distance from the witch, leaving Morrigan with a strange emptiness in the pit of her stomach.

Tawny eyes lifted to watch the company's leader, his large frame garbed in a dark cloak with golden pins the shape of laurels, head held high and shoulders back, radiating the power and strength that legends read Grey Warden's held, though if it came naturally or as an effect of his joining, Morrigan could not say.

A sound of something akin to rolling thunder interrupted her thoughts, each in the group turning to examine the path they had traveled, the sound continued to pound at their ears, a sudden sense of dread falling over the company. A wild shriek pierced the air, a brown stallion breaking through the overgrowth, the wild roar of an enemy soldier charging forward his sword poised to kill.

Morrigan grasped for her staff as the rider rounded in her direction, arm shifting to swing his steel onto the mage and down her while her heart thrummed in her chest, adrenaline aiding in the formation of a spell for self protection.

A sharp whistle pierced into the air before cutting short with a crack, the rider fell limp from his saddle with a crash onto the snow, while the attacker's horse let out a feral shriek and galloped violently to the mountains.

Heavy steps bounded behind her, while the two wardens and the stoic Qunari took their positions. Rowan stooped close to examine the corpse and searching the soldier's possessions with calloused fingers. Grasping a yellowed codex in bloodied digits, Rowan unfurled the note immediately green orbs skimming the orders, a string or curses following afterword.

"What is it?" Alistair asked immediately, while attempting to glance over his fellow warden's shoulder.

"Another assassination attempt, no sign on who gave or carried out the order." Rowan replied through grit teeth, tossing the codex back onto corpse.

"Is it the Crows?" The former Templar added.

"Impossible my weary friend, no Crow would attempt it." Zevran answered, with a frown while eyeing the corpse.

Black specks littered the sky with a low whistle above them; each member of the small band reacted immediately and stumbled for protection. Jumping at her side, Rowan lifted his shield and shifted forward while tugging Morrigan tightly against him, while his teeth bared in pain, arrowheads piercing through his protection and wedged into his arm.

The torrent of arrows continued and littered the frozen ground with dull thuds and decorating the pearl white snow; when the storm of arrows halted the warden straightened and unsheathed his blade, thrusting his arm into his shield to break off the arrows. "Get to a safe distance, hurry." He ordered the apostate with a curt nod.

Following the warden's command, Morrigan got into line with Wynne and Leliana. Hoof beats reached the party's ears again, when the riders broke through the overgrowth. Iron armor glittered with the setting sun, while the plain protection bore no family seal or affiliation.

One rider broke from the line of seven riders and nine men on foot and pushed ahead attempting to split up the warriors. When he reached Alistair, Rowan, and Sten; the bandit let out a roar and swung his blade wildly at Alistair. The Templar roared, his shield lifting in protection while he propelled himself away from the violent attack.

Sten boldly stepped forward, taking advantage of the soldier's distraction, swinging his two handed sword in a long arch, his blade ripping into the horse's breast seamlessly and running into the riders throat, the severed flesh crashed and steamed into the cold air, staining the previously untainted beauty with a murky red.

Screams of terror escaped the attackers lips, but one voice broke through the shrill panic and ordered the men to keep moving, a desperate surge of pride kept the attackers going as they rushed the slope and collided with the wardens.

Knitting her eyebrows in concentration, the veil around Morrigan twisted and sang her arm thrust forward to aim the direction of her spell, a torrent of lighting expelled from her fingertips, the tempest spell chirping and discharging a fierce storm. Lightning coursed among the troops, when the cracking and groans of the earth cut in, the wardens and their attackers struggling to keep their footing on the rumbling earth, Wynne, blanching besides her at the exertion of her earthquake spell took upon the old woman's health.

"Is that all you've got, old cat?" Morrigan smirked, her staff lifting into the evening sky, her hand clenching tightly at the air, trapping three of the foot soldiers in her crushing prison spell, ignoring the snaps and cracks of their bones and anguished screams before a hot exhale billowed from her lips.

"Big talk, young lady, but while you flaunt your skill I was tending to our Grey Wardens." Wynne retorted, sending forth a stonefist to dismount a rider, who had had cornered Alistair and Sten. Rhino quickly pounced on the fallen man, jaws clamping on the man's neck.

Rowan shifted and hopped on his toes when riders circled Zevran and himself, his sword hand angling ahead and adjusting with the movement of the riders movements, hushed words escaped the man's lips, only to earn a cackle from the Antivan while he posed his blades and positioned himself closer at the warden's side.

A whinny rumbled forth while a charger rode over the two men, Rowan slid on his feet, a shout of exertion escaping him when he angled his body forward and brought the blade into the charger's knee, the large mass pitched and collapsed forward in a violent crash. Desperate cries left the horse, while the large beast attempted to get up, her rider pinned and unconscious under the weight.

The crash startled another mount, while it rounded on it's back legs and wailed dropping her inexperienced rider, hooves winding back and eyes flaring in a feral rage, giving pause to the ground soldiers, making them back away from the spooked horse who then sprinted off into the trees.

In one last desperate attempt of turning the tide, the attackers rushed in a desperate formation and broke through the band's lines. The chargers rushed to separate every individual member. Rowan was forced back and Zevran cornered against a tree trunk, Alistair pushed to the boundaries threatening to disappear out of sight, Sten out of view but a string of curses of another tongue coming forth in fragments, Rhino barking and howling, tan blurs darting from fight to fight.

Roaring in anger, the commanding warden heaved his shield and bashed it into an enemy's skull savagely a dull crack resonating from the impact, the man quickly falling unconscious while a blade thrust down and ended the attacker's life. Rowan's blade ripped from the mass of dead flesh while the warrior measured up his oncoming attackers.

Rowan reeled back from his attackers swings and the thrust of their blades, a growl of pain erupting from his lips when steel edge cut into his thigh, spilling flesh blood. Rowan surged forward to drop another assassin with his weight, only halted from taking a full swing and vanquishing another attacker when a rope wrapped around his wrist and yanked his weight back, forcing the young lord to drop his weapon.

A rider twisted the rope in his grasp, ushering his charger and pulling Rowan from his feet and dragging the warrior on the frozen wet ground. A call of retreat rose from the noise of battle while the assassin who held the rope that constrained the warden continued to drag the screaming man away.

"Rowan!"

Watching the warden get seized and dragged away like limp bag of vegetables forced Morrigan to react immediately, bounding forward and sprinting after the fleeing men, ignoring the warnings called after her while she tipped forward, her form changing and her bones shifting, the world morphing and her view spun while she bounded after the warden as a lithe black wolf.

Following the warden's scent with her new abilities, the witch sprinted behind the fleeing men, taking pause only to grab Rowan's blade between her teeth, ignoring the rough barking of the tan mabari that stalked close behind.

Breaking through the undergrowth and maneuvering around large trunks and collapsed logs, she focused on the charger with the strung up man, a tan streak darting from the corner of her eye, watching the war hound lunge on the horse's flank, an anguished shriek escaping the beast while pitching down and crashing onto a pine, a wild tangle of limbs struggling to break free from the massive weight.

With a breath and dropping the blade from her maw, Morrigan leaped forward waves of tingling sensations shooting up her spine as her bones shifted and cracked into position, dark paws changing into pale fingers that grasped at the hilt of the warden's sword, gripping the blade with a shout and swinging it forward to break the rope that shackled the blond man.

With a grimace the man struggled onto his feet, ignoring the ripped and torn flesh that marred his wrist to grasp his blade, his hand wiping the blood from his brow, the man hovered over the collapsed horse to impale his captor with his blade with an enraged cry.

Morrigan watched the warden with a sense of relief, seeing that the man yet lived and still faired well, if only just a little beat and scrapped up. Rowan glanced over his shoulder and shot the apostate a smile his head bowing in gratitude, only to look away when the sound of snapping branches drew his attention and Morrigan's away.

A sharp pain wracked the apostates skull, making her vision spin and her body pitch forward onto the frozen ground her fall softened by the snow, a dull thud of pain aching her skull, a warm stream of blood traveling down her neck and brow. Morrigan's vision blurred the last view she had before falling unconscious was Rowan turn a look of terror covering the man's expression before changing to one of unbridled rage.

"Morrigan!" She heard him cry, his voice followed by the vicious growls of his mabari before everything went black.

* * *

 **Here's an attempt a small-scale battle scene, it was bigger challenge then I expected, but very fun. Happy holidays, folks! Enjoy the read and maybe leave a review.**


	6. Snowfall Part 2

The wind wailed and caused the trees to groan, the hollow tune traveling among the branches and terrain; the heavy snowfall left no crevice untouched as the landscape was blanketed by the frozen element, hiding away the overgrowths imperfections in it's glistening magnificence. All the creatures of the wilds were hidden away in shelters to avoid the snowstorm and the drop in temperature, all expect the dark mass the trudged on carefully on the frozen ground, cautious with each step and adjusting the extra weight it carried.

Burying his face into a fraction of his shared heavy Ferelden cloak, Rowan forced himself to swallow the wail of frustration that threatened to escape his lips. The male now mentally scolded himself for having once loved winter's beauty. Now he realized that it was only something that could be romanticized from the comfort of one's room with a warm blazing fire and a lush blanket to fend of the cold, and a hot drink or stew in one's belly.

He was a fool. It must've been the hundredth time the warden had scolded himself for his lack of preparation, but he couldn't help but do it once more when his wet socks stuck and pressed onto his frozen toes making each step painfully uncomfortable, installing a small dose of fear that he would a lose portion of his foot by sunrise.

Pausing for a moment to adjust the unconscious apostate on his back and strengthen the link on his fingers. Rowan was grateful for the warmth the witch provided in the cold winter's night, if had been stranded and alone he was sure he would've already frozen to death.

Blinking away his exhaustion, Rowan knew the danger he would bring the two if he attempted to make a fire, though the temptation was strong. The warden could only hope to find some form of sanctuary from the storm to shield the two from the cold; his aching bones and recklessly mended wounds welcomed the idea of rest for the evening.

Pushing forward on his chosen path, exhausted plumes of breath billowed in the cold winter air, blind determination giving way to fatigued weariness. Stumbling down a small hill, Rowan strengthened his legs to keep from losing his balance while setting his foot forward and testing the ground with each anxious step.

The warden suddenly took a sharp intake of his air, when his foot slipped and his weight pitched forward violently. Shifting his body to take the impact of fall on his side, he hit that ground with a dull thud, the wind being knocked out of his lungs while his form slid down the remaining height on the hill, the snow soaking through and clinging onto his cloak, armor, and clothing

The moment the warden was able to fill his lungs with air was the instant a string of curses escaped the enraged man's lips. He damned himself, Andraste, the Maker, and even the snow itself. He was positive his mother would lament the language escaping her son's lips, but in his position he found that he didn't care and instead continued, finding that it helped to distract from his current situation.

Falling limp on the ground, he shut his eyes and for a second, let himself fall into the hopelessness of it all. Feeling the snow fall and melt on his warm cheeks and the wind caress over his body and ruffle his hair sobered his woes.

" _It's easy to fall into self doubt, my darling boy." He remembered his mother had once said, her soft gentle touch brushing his hair from his eyes, while she regarded him with an amused spark in her eye. "But it takes far more courage to battle one's self and thrive through life's hardships."_

"But, what if it's impossible?"

" _Hush now, nothing is impossible." She had said, a flare of the woman she had been before his birth returning in her tone. "Many thought Ferelden would stay under Orlesian occupation and that a successful rebellion would be impossible. Does it seem so impossible now?"_

"No."

" _Steel your heart, Rowan. Life will present its challenges to you, and they will be harder then anything your father and I can even imagine, because they are made for you. Remember, you hold the blood of heroes…"_

Rolling his head, he blinked in the darkness feeling the snowflakes melt on his eyelashes, gaze resting on Morrigan's unconscious frame, watching the snow litter over her cloak. With a roar the male lifted himself of the ground feeling his cloak fall from his shoulders.

" _You will fight for those you love, for those you hold dearest in your heart. For the friends that protect you with their very own lives. But, know that wherever you go, your father and I are proud of you."_

Growling in agitation, Rowan struggled onto his feet and bent forward to tuck the apostate in his cloak before collecting her in his arms and moving forward. Eyes narrowed and set ahead while he moved, his jaw set in determination he forced himself forward, set on finding Morrigan and himself a safe place to settle for the night, without worry of danger.

" _And wherever the path may lead you, remember your carry the strength of your bloodlines, and you and Fergus are the greatest thing to come from us both."_

Moving on with a new hope burning in his chest and in his veins, the warden pressed on, eyes set forward and with an unwavering heart. Hearing a bark break over the sound of the wailing storm and spotting a large heavy mass charge in his direction only helped to ease his worries when his lost and loyal companion had finally returned to him.

"Rhino!" He called out with a grin as the war hound bounded close and rested his heavy weight on the man's leg in greeting, the tan dog's stubby tail wagged wildly in excitement.

If his hands weren't occupied the warden would've wrapped his arms around his companions thick neck in a warm greeting. "I missed you boy, I was worried you'd gotten lost or worse." Rowan said in relief.

Watching Rhino step away and glance at Rowan before trotting ahead and turning back to make sure the man was following the dog barked at his master and tilted his head in puzzlement. Taking it as a sign, the man shrugged and kept with the war hound's pace, having no options left and knowing that wherever his pet guided him was a far better option then staying stranded.

Feeling the weight in his arms stir, green eyes fell on the unconscious apostate's face, observing her eyes finally flutter open and watch him in puzzlement. Rowan beamed in glee, feeling a large weight be lifted from his shoulders that the woman in his arms still lived. "Oh, thank the Maker, you finally wake!" He laughed.

"Though, the condition we're in isn't the most favorable. Are you well?" He asked, watching the woman flinch at his words and shut her eyes tight.

"A throbbing skull and frozen half to death. Why, I couldn't be better." Morrigan replied, her words dripping with sarcasm. "Where are we?"

"Lost and separated from the rest, but on the right path to Orzammer." He answered, brow lifting at her tone.

Narrowing his eyes, he squeezed them shut and looked forward again, unsure if his eyes or the storm were playing with his mind, but with each step the mass solidified and took on the form of a small abandoned and ransacked hut.

"Do you think you can stand?"

"I don't see why not." Came her reply.

Supporting her weight and angling his body to assist the apostate, his hand rested on the small of her back to help Morrigan steady her stance. When finally assured that she could stand without his assistance he removed his hand and moved on.

Stepping to the entrance, Rowan attempted the door immediately only to find it locked. Clenching his jaw, he mentally apologized to his mother for his next set of actions. Reeling back, and thrusting his foot against the knob, the door quickly give way to the force and rattled open. Rhino immediately pushed passed Rowan's leg and explored the abandoned home, followed by Morrigan, who only hummed in thought.

Stepping in and shutting the door before propping it closed with a chair, he quickly moved to dismantle the forgotten furniture for kindling. When Morrigan ignited the fire pit and the flames cracked and popped eating at the wood, the heat spread over the room and onto his aching body reminding the warden just how exhausted he had truly been.

Falling on his rear in front of the flames, he felt a shiver run down his spine before spreading over his complete frame. Rowan blinked in the light and fell into a small trance; a hazy lull tugging him in and leaving him dazed after his adrenaline rush. The colors blended in his eyes, his view blurring and taking him into his own little world.

They were finally safe, thank the Maker. Feeling the heat seep into his bones, he was glad to be out of the storm and to see Morrigan finally wake. He wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if she had perished saving his life. His calloused finger ran over the rope burn on his wrist with a grimace, a reminder of his leisurely drag and his mishap.

A cold muzzle nudging his cheek thrust him back into reality; lifting his eyes he outstretched his arm and scratched the dog between the ears, watching the apostate settle in a spot besides him on the cold ground.

"How's your head?" He asked, hands moving down to grab his poultice supplies. "I was able bandage you earlier, but I'm no healer."

Lifting her hand and brushing off the hood of her cloak, her fingertips brushed over the bandage, her long raven black hair falling over her shoulders, her brow lifting and frown growing at her state. Rowan's eye's rested on the apostate and studied her, mind reeling and resting on how beautiful she looked with her hair down. Clearing his throat, he inched closer to her and gestured for her to come closer.

"Sorry, I undid your hair too and didn't know how to put it back up. I have some supplies left, let's properly see to your wounds."

Morrigan complied easily and with an odd silence that made the young lord nervous. Trimming the bandage with his fingers, he pulled away the cloth, and then dipped his fingers into the injury kits salve while brushing her hair to the side and carefully dabbing the wound on her scalp.

Satisfied with his work, Rowan rubbed his hands together and thanked the witch when she returned his cloak. Wrapping his body in its warmth he sighed in relief, letting the silence settle between them.

"Tis most curious," Morrigan began, her eyes remaining on the fire, but her expression twisted in that same puzzlement he had seen before. "You endangered your own health by seeing to mine, I was positive you would have left me for dead."

"Don't be stupid." Rowan interrupted, offended by her words, his face growing hot while he felt his anger bubble in his stomach. "You sacrifice yourself for me and expect me to abandon you? I would've died if you didn't save me. "

"Indeed?" She said with a lift to her voice, her expression betraying nothing. "I thought different with the Circle mage whispering in your ear of the dangers of _my_ kind, it would not have been a surprise to be driven from your company."

"You are a bigger fool than I thought." Rowan retorted and shook his head while returning his gaze to the flames. Morrigan bristled at his side, her brows knitting while she regarded the warden with cool fury, but as her lips parted to speak, Rowan interrupted immediately.

"Wynne may say whatever she wants about you, and I will listen out of respect for her, however," He paused to rest his eyes on her tawny one's, seeing her rage twist her expression.

"You've been nothing but loyal and honest since we've left the Wilds. Your words may be cruel, you may not get along with some of our companions, and sometimes our opinions differ; but that's okay." He said reaching forward to rest his hand on hers.

"You've saved my life twice now, Morrigan. You're my friend and I would never abandon you, of that you have my word." Rowan finished, squeezing her hand tight into his own, a fluttering rush forming in his stomach when the edge wore away from her eyes and instead they regarded him with an air of ease.

"Remarkable..." She sighed in amusement, and yet, Rowan noted, she did not pull her hand away from his. "Friendship with a man, 'tis nothing I know nothing of, nor ever thought I needed."

"Thank you, for seeing to my injuries." Morrigan finished with a rare smile that made the warden grin.

"Does that mean I'm on your good side?" Rowan pressed with a lift of his brow.

A hum of amusement filled the room, the witch tilted her head and studied the warden with a smirk, the flames outlined the contours of her face and making her appear even more mysterious and wild then the day he had met her.

"You are all ready on my good side, however, 'twould seem you don't know a flirt when you hear one."

"What?" Rowan replied with a scoff.

"It seems the Grey Warden doesn't remember lending me extra blankets." Morrigan informed him, her tone filled with mirth.

"You call that flirting?" He said in disbelief. "I honestly thought you were freezing in your tent."

"'Twould seem you are a bigger fool than Alistair."

"You wound me, Morrigan." He snickered, while nudging the apostate with his shoulder. The weight of the blight lifted from his shoulders. He was left attuned to the small abandoned hut, the crackling fire and its pleasant glow, the howling wind that made their shelter groan, and to Morrigan.

"Will you humor me and let me fix my mistake?"

"Only if you do it right."

Leaning forward, Rowan set his lips on hers. The taste of her kiss intoxicated him and had him seeking more. His arms enveloped her waist and pulled her in, their lips parting for air briefly and met again with fervor.

Rowan forgot his aches and pains that evening and the snow that had him frozen to the core. Settling on the ground with cloaks for blankets and only themselves and a war hound for company, he found that sleep did not allude him so easily and that pleasant dreams came to him with Morrigan in his arms and Rhino at his feet.

* * *

 **The finale will be coming soon and is the final chapter for this 3-part series. Hope you guys liked this chapter don't forget to leave a review.**

 **I wanted to work on character interaction and improve on it in this chapter, tell me what you think?**

 **TheSilencedVigor: I do have some Morrigan/Kieran chapters planned, but I have a few more chapters that I wish to work on before I get to them.**


	7. Love

The passage of time had escaped during her difficult hours, the grey light of dawn streamed into the shattered window of the abandoned hut she took for shelter. The small light illuminated the small exhausted mewling babe in her arms, and with great care, the witch bundled her child in blankets and brought him to her breast.

Her exhaustion and her pregnancy brought on many emotions Morrigan had not expected; during the birthing process she did not know she would cry out, especially not for him. Lifting pale fingers to her cheeks, she attempted to brush off the tears that lingered. A sticky sheen of sweat coated her body, and her hair clung to her forehead, but now was not the time to worry for her own comfort and instead the witch focused on helping her newborn to feed.

With trembling fingers, she guided the newborn until he latched on. What a fool she was, Morrigan thought, feeling a new spell of budding tears build as her eyes fell upon her child's small tuft of brown hair. No, their child. For all her former words and claims of love being a weakness she found herself yearning and wishing for it to find her once more. The foolish part of her, the desperate part of her, wished that he had found her like he swore he would.

Biting her lip to contain the hiccup of tears that shook her core, Morrigan grasped a small rag to clean the babe, careful not to disturb him while he fed. A boy, oh how her Grey Warden would've been pleased to know.

Their shared love, is what she craved more than anything at the moment now at her most vulnerable. Morrigan's heart stopped when she felt it, a soft and desperate pull at their shared connection. His curiosity and worry radiated from the rosewood ring doubling her grief, while the enchanted item circled and changed forms on her forth finger.

Lifting her hand to her lips, the witch would pull the ring off with her teeth and spat it away watching the item roll away and land near her supplies. A pang of longing struck her and made her feel like a fool for letting herself becoming so emotional without considering the effect it would have on the connection the ring provided.

It would be so easy to ignore it, to pretend that the love she was given and what she yearned wasn't there and it went away the moment she left. However, Morrigan did not want to forget, the hidden kisses, the thoughtful gifts, and the selfless companionship that was always there.

A small hiccup and weak cry tore her away from her distress and her golden eyes fell upon her child. Bundling the babe and cradling him tenderly, the witch patted the infant's back and rocked her exhausted frame to calm the boy's distress. "Hush, little man, everything's going to be alright..."

* * *

The boy cooed and babbled continuously, small plump fingers grasping at the fabric of his mother's attire, while he kicked and bounced in his sling. Morrigan glanced down with an amused grin, slender digits moving to caress the baby's cheeks. The babe instantly grasped and tugged at her fingers, squeezing and cooing at the witch when he received her attention.

"You're very chatty today, little man." The witch said, only to get a garbled prattle.

Kieran, she wondered if Rowan would approve of their child's name. It fit the boy well, she thought with a pleased hum, swaying her finger and playing with her son's chubby fist. Studying the boy's round face, Morrigan regarded Kieran with tender affection, studying his chocolate brown eyes and how they held similar shape to his father's.

The witch couldn't help but wonder how she acted as a babe. She wondered if Flemeth ever looked upon her and felt the same blooming warmth in her chest that Morrigan felt when she gazed at Kieran. If Flemeth ever smiled fondly at her and rocked her gently to sleep when she wailed at all hours of the night like she had with her own son.

Morrigan had been guilty of conceiving her son as a means of increasing her power, but all her plans and goals changed when she had bonded with the child and felt that familiar warmth of love in her chest. The old god's soul provided the child with a destiny, and instead she would groom and raise the boy for the future.

The witch could only hope to provide the warmth and love that her warden had been raised with in Castle Highever. To be supportive, to be patient, to respect, and to nurture her son in ways that Flemeth had never done for her. Morrigan was sure Rowan would be pleased to know that she would not damage their son like Flemeth had her.

Morrigan's love for Kieran would be selfless and patient. With a pleased sigh, the witch would lean forward and press her lips onto her son's forehead hoping that such a small action could convey all the love she felt for her son.

* * *

 **Here's a small update! Also, sorry for the long wait! Life kept me busy and I also had major writers block for a while. Hopefully next time it won't take this long for another update as I'm working through this rut. Thanks again for your patience, don't forget to leave a review!**


	8. Scars

Calloused fingers caressed the curve of her thighs, the warden's touch marveling at the length and velvety warmth that emitted from the witches' body. It was an odd ritual that the two developed post-coitus; one that only emerged with passion and the respect of the other as equals; or so claimed the Witch of the Wilds.

A small moan vibrated in her throat while goose bumps traveled up her spine, the warrior's gentle touch only a tease of what he could to do her. Extending her leg to let it drape over his bare hips, an exhausted chuckle escaped the man's throat while his digits continued to explore, pausing at a small dip on her hip; his finger tracing and memorizing the scar.

Morrigan watched the man with an amused smirk, anticipating when he'd finally ask. The apostate found that the warden had a curious fixation with finding the scars she had received during her years in the wilds. Deciding to play along, the apostate extended her arm, and set her hand on the man's bare sinewy chest, her fingers finding memorable markings that her eyes missed during the late evening.

This time she had a destination in mind, caressing his cheek her fingers stroked the scar that marred him. Morrigan knew enough about the one on his cheek. It was a fresh wound when they had met in the wilds. His stress during Ostagar had him picking and scratching at the wound until it was finally healed by Flemeth's magic. By then, however, the damage was done. A reminder of the old life that was torn from his grasp.

Finally, her fingers stroked his cheek once more before traveling to his brow, digits tracing a small thin scar that was easy to miss if one didn't look close enough at the Grey Warden. It was an old one, dulled with age and from a time where they hadn't yet met.

"That one?" Rowan finally asked spurring the apostate out of her thoughts.

"Yes, this one." Morrigan hummed, thumb brushing over his eyebrow and tracing the length of the scar.

The witch heard the warden lick his lips, while a pensive silence filled the air between them. The man's brow lifted under her fingers and his gaze fell upon her, body shifting atop the blankets that lay scattered under their forms.

"Fergus,"

Her lips pursed, searching her memories for that familiar name, her eyes focused and attempted to catch the man's expression in the dark. "Your brother." She said, recalling how the Warden had pleaded to return the wilds to find his kin.

"Yes," He nodded, his fingers ceased in tracing the dip on her hip. "We both shared the same teachers and masters however we were both pushed to focus on different paths. My brother was to be Teyrn of Highever and me, the general of her armies. This caused a rift in our relationship. I was jealous that he got to travel often with my father, and he was mad that I could go to any tourney I desired. "

The warden paused to chuckle. "I should've seen it coming, we hadn't been speaking for days. He confronted me on the training grounds, it was supposed to be like any other sparring match, but he charged at me when I was unprepared. I honestly can't remember what happened next. I opened my eyes and found myself sprawled on the ground with a pounding skull and feeling hot sweat sting my eyes."

"And you forgave him?" Morrigan asked, surprised by the lift of her tone.

"Of course. He's my brother and I loved him." He replied with a laugh.

Another odd sentiment she wouldn't understand from Rowan. Morrigan sighed, she was pleased to know the story of the scar, but the more she learned of his past, the more the Witch of the wild's felt a small tug of jealousy that she attempted to shove away into the deep recess of her mind. If the tales of Flemeth's other daughters were true, would she feel the same for her sisters as he did for his brother?

"This one," Rowan said, interrupting Morrigan from her thoughts. His finger tapped her thigh softly, pulling her back to reality. Delusions for another time, she concluded.

"Tis a scar I received when I first ventured out of the wilds in animal form. I was unprepared; equal parts foolhardy and brave, I entered areas that Flemeth wished for me to avoid." Morrigan frowned at the memory, she had certainly fallen into one of her mother's lessons that day. "As a wolf, I prowled the wilds and experienced them in ways I never had before. So, lost in my thoughts was I that I was unaware of the Chasind hunters traveling the same paths as I."

"A hunter caught sight of me and I was lucky the arrow missed and barely hit me. I ran back to our hut and I remember my heart thundering in my chest. When I reached the hut, I changed forms. Panicked, I tried to stop the bleeding and let my worry and sobs reach Flemeth's ears." His hand fell onto hers and with a soft squeeze she returned the actions and continued. "Mother was furious, she reacted as you suspect and left me to treat the wound by myself."

"Morrigan…I-" The warden cut himself off and attempted to meet her eye in their dark tent. Morrigan was glad for the darkness, she couldn't tell what her reaction would be if she saw the emotion in his eyes.

"Sleep well, Warden."

* * *

"What about this one?" The brown-haired boy asked while crawling between his parents, the mattress dipped under the boy's weight. Extending his hand, the little boy let his small digits trace over a small blemish on his mother's shoulder while the other poked at his father's cheek.

"That is enough stories for tonight, little man." Morrigan smiled while grabbing Kieran's hand and grasping his shoulder lowering her son to put him to rest.

"You're mother's right, pup. There'll be more time for tales another day." Rowan laughed while his son groaned and settled between his parents.

"That's what you always say!" The boy protested when his mother tugged the sheets over his chest and tucked him in.

"Hush now, tis late, and way past your bedtime." Morrigan hummed, laying down and setting an arm over her son while she watched the boy pout when his father leaned over him to press a kiss on his forehead. Bundled together in their small bed meant for two, the family of three sunk into a comfortable silence when they prepared to fall into the fade.

"Promise you'll tell me?" Kieran asked head turning to regard them both.

"We promise."

* * *

 **An attempt at posting again. Have several unfinished chapters that I'm still working on. Hopefully, this will help me get back into a regular posting schedule. Thanks for reading!**


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